


Feel The Love

by not_today__Satan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bad Parenting, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexuality, Character Death, Child Abuse, Closeted Dean Winchester, Eventual Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Fighting Monsters, Flashbacks, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Overprotective Dean Winchester, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Dean Winchester, Smut, Suicidal Castiel, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Touch-Starved Castiel, and fluff, angels can feel others emotions, cas on a hunt, dean cares to much about sammy, hunts, idk yet, lots of injuries, maybe not, probably character death, probably sad ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 05:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17718572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_today__Satan/pseuds/not_today__Satan
Summary: Though the folklore on angels is supremely extensive, one thing that no one, save for those angels, was that they could feel the emotions of the people that they touch. A single tap of the tips of a finger could spark the most overwhelming feelings inside of them. Castiel had always hated that his kind possessed this ability, for all it ever did was cause him grief.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oof guys, I don't really know what's gonna happen, but some angst will be happening eventually and yeah. hope you enjoy

Though the folklore on angels is supremely extensive, one thing that no one, save for those angels, was that they could feel the emotions of the people that they touch. A single tap of the tips of a finger could spark the most overwhelming feelings inside of them. Castiel had always hated that his kind possessed this ability, for all it ever did was cause him grief. He had always hoped, deep down inside, that he would lose that power as he changed forms, changing from an angel to a human to go to a leviathan. But none of these had stopped his grace from returning with the same strength and returning all of the gifts and curses he was given. When Castiel first met Dean and Sam Winchester, as he gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition, the pain was almost unbearable. The feelings that radiated from the simple touch left Cas pondering the amount of trauma that a man would have to go through in order to feel that much pain and suffering. 

Castiel felt a near exact feeling when he touched Sam for the first time, but with all of the pain, came hope, one thing that Dean did not have. To Castiel, that sliver of hope was perhaps the largest thing that differed the two boys from each other, other than their height difference. 

As time passed on, Castiel grew closer and closer to the two boys, close enough for them to consider him family. He couldn’t begin to describe how wonderful and grateful he felt when he first heard the words that signified him becoming part of a family. 

Of course, every time that he made contact with Dean, waves of emotions he had never felt before coursed through him, leaving him more confused than he had ever been. Castiel became extremely attached to Dean, and not just the man’s physical form, Cas was obsessed with Dean’s emotions and the feelings he left Cas with. Even in the midst of a bloody battle regarding the two boys, Castiel still found himself attracted to the energy Dean gave off. He craved Dean’s touch, regardless of the little sense the feelings made. 

Dean had always known that his feelings for his best friend would grow and later become an issue for both him and the angel. He knew that he felt an attraction to him from the moment they first make eye contact, those bright blue eyes drew him into an endless pit of love. Dean had never known whether Castiel thought of their relationship as anything other than platonic, or if he even experienced the feeling of love, to begin with. At first, the feelings confused him, not that they still don’t, but now he has at least agreed to allow the feelings to exist and stopped trying to stuff them into a dark pit that couldn’t be found.

He still wasn’t ready to admit his sexuality, as that had always been a touchy subject for him and his family. He realized soon as a child that not everyone was accepting, especially not his father, John. 

Dean had arrived home after a particularly long day at his current school. He twisted the key into the motel room door, the key jamming on the way out. Causing him to struggle for several minutes until he could release it. He swung the door open and immediately the overwhelming scent of alcohol filled his nose. He scrunched up his face and covered his mouth with his flannel sleeve. His eyes swept the room and found his father lying against the dark headboard on one of the motel room beds. His body was slumped forward and his eyes were closed. Dean shut the door as quietly as he could, checking over his shoulder multiple times to check to make sure his father stayed asleep. John’s breathing was the only indicator that he was still alive. Dean softly shuffled over to the side of the bed and carefully wrestled an empty bottle of whisky out of his father’s tight grip. 

He had just taken a seat on the edge of the other bed when the door slammed open and in strode a flannel-clad Sam, an uncanny version of his older brother, other than the four year age difference. “Guess what Dean?” he shouts in a voice that makes Dean cringe. The shuffle on the other bed is enough to stop Dean from calling out his little brother on making so much noise. Terror covers Sam’s face as he realizes what he had just done. John’s eyes snapped open, a terrifying grimace displays itself on top of John’s tired expression. The drunk fury behind his eyes sends a shiver under Dean’s skin. John stares down at his empty hand before noticing the empty bottle on the side table. He grabs it with such force that knocks the small alarm clock off of the table. He downs the last few drops, bringing the dry bottle back down as his arm falls onto his lap. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he grumbles, his words slurring from the previous drinks. He starts to stand, making his way towards Sam with forlorn death in his eyes. Dean makes a quick decision while Sam stutters out a quiet apology that they both know won’t change a single thing. Dean was never one for quick decisions, he preferred if the choices were well thought out and the plans had no loopholes or mistakes. Regardless, this was one of the times when he would have to step out of his comfort zone to save the situation and prevent it from escalating into a full on blood bath. He picked up the discarded clock and tossed it gently so that it hit John’s back. His father froze midstride and slowly twisted around on his heels to face his eldest son. “What the fuck did you just do?” He asked, his face twisted in anger. 

Dean stuck his chin in the air with feigned confidence. ‘Why did he do this?’ He thought in his head. What compelled him to take such risky actions? Sammy. Dean knew that it was his job to protect his brother. He was constantly reminded by his father throughout most of his life that his wellbeing was inferior to his brother’s and that Sam always comes first. Well, viewpoints change when alcohol is involved. 

 

“You!” John screams, “You are the monster!” Dean became extremely confused, he was trying to be on his best behaviour so that maybe John would change his mind on leaving. “Marcus told me. He told me your secret.” John spat at Dean, who felt anxiety flood his body, what had Marcus (The man in the hotel room next to him, a particularly nasty man.) tell John. Dean tried not to keep too many secrets, but everyone has certain things that they want to keep private. “He saw you,” John continues, “He saw you kissing that boy this morning.” Dean broke eye contact with his father and looked at Sam. He looked just as shocked as Dean thought he would when he inevitably found out about Dean’s bisexuality. Dean felt the blood leave his face and he dropped his head just as the bottle went flying in his direction. He flinched as it connected with his shoulder, immediately bracing himself for much worse to come. 

How had Marcus seen them? Dean and the young boy he had taken a liking to, Benny, had hidden behind a garbage container in the alley beside the motel, making sure that they couldn’t be seen before starting anything. Dean knew that it was risky, but he needed something to do and he had started to think that maybe things were getting serious with Benny in the two months that they had been in that town. Dean knew that Marcus often relished in smoking a cigarette every now and then, but he rarely strayed from the front doors of the motel entrance. 

Marcus is exactly the kind of man that would betray you in a heartbeat if presented with a more favourable prize, Dean really wasn’t all that surprised about his shift of loyalty. The fact that Marcus had told Dean’s father about Dean kissing another boy made his blood boil. How could he?

Dean returned to reality, although his every thought told him, no begged and pleaded for him to leave and live in fantasies that would entertain and protect him from the reality he is forced to live in. He stared up at his father, John’s arm raised, ready to hit his son. Dean shut his eyes as the first blow stuck. He felt time slow down as the fist connected with the side of his face, jerking his head to the side. Dean felt the pain cover his face and he immediately knew that there would no doubt be a bruise. And most likely more to come, as the unhealthy way that his father let out his stress was to fight and hit. And one single hit was nowhere near the end of the abuse Dean would suffer that night. 

John’s fist retracted again and before Dean had a chance to brace himself, the next hit connected. This one giving Dean a slowly darkening black eye. He fought through the pain of the next couple of hits, remaining sitting upright for as long as he could. He didn’t dare open his eyes for fear of making eye contact with his father. 

“Dad,” Sam’s small quiet voice called out, the noise was barely audible and passed right over John’s head, but Dean’s ears caught and acknowledged it. 

Sammy had been watching the whole time.

Dean connected the twisted strands of his thoughts and cried out when he realized that his brother had resumed his presence in the room for the entirety of the fight. Dean had always tried to shelter his brother from their father and his anger-filled outbursts. He always took the blame for everything and make a large attempt to only allow his father to beat him when Sammy wasn’t present. 

‘I have failed.’ Dean heard over and over in his head, the voice growing louder and louder until it blocked out nearly all of the pain that surrounded his body. ‘What a failure.’ began its chorus inside Dean’s head. ‘I’ve ruined it, I’ve ruined him.’ 

Dean didn’t feel the next punch that landed on his gut, his body folding in on itself. All he could think about was Sam, who happened to be frozen, standing in the center of the room, terror on his face. Dean kept the attention on himself and allowed his father to finish the beatings until he had let out all of his anger.  
John began to mumble things that Dean couldn’t hear, whether it be the punches to the sides of his face or the voices in his head blocking out any external noise, one of the two, most likely both, prevented Dean being aware of his surroundings. 

 

Dean sat with his back against the headboard of the bed, mimicking his father’s earlier stance. Eventually, the voices calmed down a little bit and slowed their chants to a few words per minute. The bed squeaked and brought Dean to realize that he was rocking back and forth. He stopped. A deep sigh released itself, Dean could feel one of his broken ribs, poke the side of his stomach. He’d have to inspect his body to see what kind of damage his father caused. 

He had certainly learnt his lesson, no more boys, no more bisexuality. He was done. He couldn’t risk it anymore. 

The very next day, John and the boys packed up their bags and exited the town, leaving behind everything, school, friends, and most importantly, Benny and the forbidden love. 

Dean’s body bolted upright as his chest heaved in anticipated fear. He felt beads of sweat roll down his back and the sides of his face. He sat in the dark, regaining the knowledge of his surroundings. He reached across the bed and flicked on the bedside lamp, the room flooding with yellow light. After several minutes of slowing his breathing, just as the doctor had told him to, he felt his breathing gradually slow down, and his body eventually relaxing. He fell back onto his sheets, closing his eyes in an attempt to return to slumber. 

That feeble attempt failed and led Dean to turn on his bedroom light, push the covers off of his body, and leave the room. He headed down the everlasting hallway in the dark, already having memorized the route to the kitchen. Upon arriving, he flicked on the light switch and blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted themselves to the change in brightness. 

Dean froze as he slowly became more and more able to see, his mouth opening slightly in shock. His best friend, Castiel was sitting on a wooden chair at the table, an angel blade pressed against his chest. “Cas,” he screamed, his mind still registering exactly what was going on.


	2. What Do You Want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a suicide attempt in this so if you don't want to read that, don't. some angst is coming up. hope you enjoy

Castiel had a firm grip on the last remaining angel blade in the bunker. He held the weapon so that it aimed directly at his heart, all it would take was one quick shove and his life would be over. Castiel had considered it for a very long time, but it had taken him weeks to finally commit to completing the act that he felt was necessary. He had pondered upon nearly every aspect of it, contemplating the pros and cons. It had been long before decided that it would happen, the only barrier to get over was the courage he needed. 

That was the first and so far the only time Castiel had ever cried. His chest heaved with broken sobs, tears streamed down his cheeks. He looked up to the roof, calling out for someone, anyone, he wasn’t sure who. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter at this point.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ a voice whispered in the back of Castiel’s head. He obviously knew that there was a tiny part of him that wanted to stay alive, but there was no going back now. No returning from the deep pits of hell that he had managed to fall into. He couldn’t mess up yet another thing in his life and cause more grief than needed.

He sat on the very uncomfortable wooden chair in the middle of the room, gathering the courage for several hours, all of the sides of his mind fighting a battle over whether to do it or not. Castiel took a deep shaky breath and steadied himself, gripping the blade tight with both hands. 

“Cas!” He heard another voice, it was just as loud in volume but had much more intensity to it than anything he had heard in his head. Was it just another figment of his imagination? Or was it something more? Before he could think more about it, a hand wrapped itself around his shoulder and tore the blade out of his hands. It tossed the blade across the room, the metal clanking against the steel floor. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, his face was pressed against a familiar shoulder, strong arms wrapped around his back. The smell of the shirt stirred memories into his thoughts. 

Dean.

Happiness and sadness, relief and pain, love and hatred flowed through Dean to Cas. filling him up with nearly every single emotion a person could feel. Cas didn’t understand why, that at this moment, Dean still loved him. 

Why did Dean seem to think that Cas deserved love? 

Why would anyone love him after all he had done? 

Those were the questions that made themselves known that they were unanswered and demanded to be resolved. 

Why does Dean feel this way?

Cas knew that he had non-platonic feelings for the human he rescued from hell, but he never once believed that those feelings would be reciprocated. He had always thought that Dean Winchester was straight. Dean had never suggested otherwise. 

This led to even more confusion on Cas’ part. Were the feelings just brotherly, like Dean and Sam’s relationship. Or was it just Dean considering Cas as a part of his family. Cas wasn’t sure what to think anymore. He felt lost, alone, no matter how many people were in the room with him.

Cas had made several attempts over the years that they had known each other to tell Dean about his feelings for the man. He had even blatantly said that he loved him. It was Dean’s responses that broke his heart. But the words only ever fell onto unresponsive ears. Dean always tried to shift the conversation onto another topic or pretend that he didn’t hear what Cas was saying, regardless of the feelings that were emitted through their touch. 

 

“No Cas,” Dean began, shifting their bodies so that he could see Cas’ face. Cas refused to look him in the eyes. “You can’t do that to me Cas,” 

“I'm sor- I’m sorry,” Cas stuttered, he gave in and stared Dean in the eyes. He could see the tear streaks that ran down Dean’s face. 

“No!” Dean replied too forcefully, Cas flinched. “Sorry,” he began again. “You have nothing to be sorry about, don’t ever say that you are sorry,” Dean untangled his arm and brushed the tears off of Cas’ cheeks lightly with his thumbs. 

“Okay,” Cas mumbled, not knowing what else to say. Cas felt love return even stronger as Dean’s hands cradled his face. Why did Dean love him so much? He deserves anything but love, doesn’t he? 

“Cas,” Dean got Cas’ attention, “Why?” he asked the question Castiel dreaded, the question that struck nervousness into his bones. It was a surprise how easily one single word can procure such strong feelings. 

Cas started to ramble. “I’m a failure, everything I do goes against everything that you and Sam work hard to get. I ruin everything and I’m sorry for being such a burden on your life-” 

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, “You are not a failure and you know it,” Something in Dean’s eyes changed, the feelings he was emitting changed into something Cas had never felt before. The unknown emotion comforted him momentarily. 

“Cas,” Dean began, his expression changing to one of nervousness and fear. “I love you.” 

Cas’ heart dropped at the sound of these words. No. Dean couldn’t love him. He couldn’t love something that was worthy of nothing. 

Dean’s thumb stroked Castiel’s jawline, glancing down at his lips. Cas’ expression changed to one of confusion. Dean slowly leaned in, his features growing closer and closer. He gently pressed his lips to Cas’. Cas froze at the touch, his body involuntarily pulling back. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Dean asked, fear coating his voice after Cas pulled away from the kiss. 

“I can’t,” Castiel muttered, “We can’t,” He hung his head and stared craters into the ground. 

“Why not?” Dean asked, his palm cradling the side of Cas’ face, his fingers gliding back and forth over the tear-stained cheeks. 

“Because you can’t love me,” Cas replied, his voice cracking midsentence, he glanced up at Dean’s face, looking anywhere but his eyes. “I’ve done too much,”

Castiel felt the emotions that Dean was feeling change, they still held love and hope, but now anger and confusion took over and became the most prominent. “You think that matters?” Dean”s eyebrows furrowed, the confusion and anger finally fell over his face.

“Yes,” Cas directed his stare at Dean’s flannel-covered shoulder, unable to look anywhere near Dean’s eyes. “I don’t deserve your love,” 

Dean grabbed Cas’ face with both hands and aimed it so that he had no choice but to look at his face. Dean’s eyes had changed again, this time they reflected pity not love.“Cas,” Dean’s voice cracked, the words, full of emotion. “Of course you do,”

Cas jerked his head to the side, freeing himself from Dean’s clutches. “I can’t Dean,” Those words twisted and pulled at the strings of Cas’ heart until every single one of them snapped. 

They couldn’t do this. It wasn’t real. 

Dean just pitied him. 

He didn’t actually love him. 

“Yes, you can,” Dean placed his hand onto Cas’ shoulder in one last attempt to make contact. 

Cas felt the pain behind Dean’s facade of strength. He felt the final floodgates snapping as Cas replied, “No, Dean, we can’t-”

“Fine,” Dean cut him off, yanking his hand back from Cas’ shoulder in disgust, cutting all contact with the angel. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas scratched the back of his neck, a small thing that he had noticed he does when he is nervous. 

Dean shifted in his stance, he angled his body away from Cas, ready to leave the room. “Yeah, sure Cas,” He finished. Dean waited, his body swaying in the air, his actions paused to allow Cas to have one last chance to change the path their relationship would follow. Cas sat, slumped in his seat, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He didn’t make any move to say something. 

Dean turned on his heels and left the room without so much as a goodbye. He swung the door open with such ferocity that it slammed against the wall and left a mediocre dent. The door was pulled closed with a loud bang that rang throughout Cas’ bones, his body flinching at the horrid feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a like if you liked it and comment about stuff I can fix or work on.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a like if you enjoyed the story so far. comment on what I can fix or improve.


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